The Tragedy of Marc Antony
by Gallifreyan Annihilator
Summary: Poirot Cafe Theme Competition #8: A heart to heart discussion between a detective and a thief. Stabbing and blood may or may not be involved.


**Summary: **Poirot Cafe Theme Competition #8: A heart to heart discussion between a detective and a thief. Stabbing and blood may or may not be involved. Takes place almost directly after the Kaitou Corbeau arc.

**GA:** This isn't angsty at all. Goat bless. Takes place after Kaitou Corbeau, in a scenario where Kaito thinks that Kaitou Corbeau is actually his father (or at least, possibly still alive). Slight pre-HakuKai at the end, but not enough to warrant it actually being a HakuKai fic.

Enjoy!

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**THE TRAGEDY OF MARC ANTONY**

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There was blood everywhere. His hands, his clothes, the knife clutched between white knuckles and a sweaty palm. The carpet was stained a sick crimson red, and the man standing in front of him, blood dripping from the hole in his shirt, glared weakly at his assailant, clutching at his stomach, his arms just as full of the thick liquid.

"Damnit, Hakuba," he hissed, a mixture of spit and blood landing on the ground. "You're making a mess of everything. Gimme that."

Kaito lunged for the prop dagger in Hakuba's hands, but the Brit simply sidestepped, pressing the knife into Kaito's back. It collapsed, as it was supposed to, but the tip managed to burst yet another one of the sacks of pig's blood hidden underneath Kaito's ripped tunic, sending another flood of dark liquid to the floor. The only tragedy to _Julius Caesar_ was going to be having to clean up after every practice, considering the fact that the theatre teacher and Kaito had both ganged up on the class to make the production as "real to life" as possible, without actually stabbing the main lead - Kaito himself. Thank god Kaito was the one on cleaning duty this time, and they wouldn't have to use any more blood until the actual performance. "Stop squirming so much and maybe you won't get any more blood on your face." _Or my clothes, _Hakuba thought dryly, even though he made sure to wear something trashy for the setup that day - even he had to admit he didn't look exactly flattering in a poncho and sweatpants.

"It's not my fault my lunch decided not to agree with me today," was Kaito's retort as he held his stomach tighter, groaning at a particularly painful spasm. With a sigh of resignation, he collapsed into a cross-legged position on the floor, forcing Hakuba's face into a scowl as he all but splashed in the puddle of blood, sending a small wave over his galoshes. "Why do I have to be Caesar, anyways? It's not like I _want_ to be stabbed twenty-seven times."

"Twenty-three," Hakuba corrected him tiredly, although they both knew that Kaito was well aware of the number. Damned idiot had an eidetic memory, and yet he made these mistakes on _purpose_. It just went to show how little he cared for the production, despite putting on a facade of excitement for Kabuyama-sensei. "And pray tell, who would you _want_ to be?"

Kaito was quiet for a moment as Hakuba took a seat next to him, ignoring how the blood seeped through the seat of his pants. It surprised the detective, actually, seeing how deep in thought the prankster was. He had thought for sure that he'd shrug off the idea and suggest being Puck. Finally, "Marc Antony, probably." Although the words carried the same casual lilt as most of his usual comments, there was something off about the way his eyes slipped to the side, an obvious tell that Hakuba was curious if Kaito even knew he had. For a thief with an indestructible pokerface, his civilian personality had always been too easy to read.

Working on the assumption that Kaito was KID - more of a simple observation than a leap in judgment - it wasn't too difficult to read out the play that Kaito was implying. Marc Antony, Kaito, the vengeful man who brought about the downfall of those who killed his father figure. Which would mean that he felt some type of grief, vowed revenge on the death of a loved one - Kuroba Toichi, who had died years prior. Who had died as KID had disappeared? It was funny, how easily the pieces of the puzzle fit together with a single name such as Antony. It was sad, how the _why_ that he had been searching for fit so well between the pages of a Shakespearean tragedy.

"_Now let it work_," Hakuba said suddenly, surprising Kaito with one of Antony's lines despite playing Brutus in the production. "_Mischief, thou art afoot, take thou what course thou wilt._" He paused a moment before snorting, shaking his head at the impossibility. "Don't fool yourself, Kuroba-kun. That's not you at all."

No, he confirmed with a single smirk as Kaito elbowed him hard in the side, it wasn't him in the slightest. Kaito wasn't one to sit still and let chaos take its course, his mayhem was controlled to the point of pinpoint accuracy, letting its victims think they're running amok while he pulled at every single string. If mischief were to take a course, it would take the one predetermined by the insanely concise puppetmaster.

"Oi, Hakuba." It was Kaito's turn to ask a question, and Hakuba raised an eyebrow at him to indicate that he was listening. "Hypothetically speaking, what would happen if Caesar ended up not being dead at the end of the play?"

That received another eyebrow raise. "Julius Caesar was stabbed _twenty-three times_, Kuroba-kun. I highly doubt he would survive that. Even with today's technology, surviving an attack of that severity would be-"

"I said _hypothetically_, bastard."

There was an agitation to his voice that made Hakuba cut off, and Kaito shifted his eyes away once more. Once more, the implications of the prior metaphor came to mind, and Hakuba had to question just what happened to make Kaito so insistent on the question.

"Well," he spoke slowly, trying to determine both what was true and what was appropriate. "Then it wouldn't be the tragedy of Julius Caesar, would it?" Before Kaito could form a retort, Hakuba spoke again, words that made the other cringe inwardly and hide an outward flinch. "It would be the tragedy of Marc Antony. Could you imagine, being betrayed by the one person you thought understood you?" A rhetorical question, but one that he knew to which the rhetorical answer would be yes. "Not only to have destroyed Brutus, who he had seen as a brother up until Caesar's death, but to have destroyed him in vain, trying to gain revenge for an act that didn't even happen."

"But he had thought that it happened," Kaito's voice was growing weak again, and Hakuba had the feeling it had nothing to do with the arm wrapped loosely around his stomach. "So it's still justified in the long run. And it's not like Brutus didn't attack him, even if he didn't _kill_ him."

Excuses, excuses were all they were, but Hakuba would let them slide. Kaito was trying to persuade himself of something, that much he could tell despite not knowing what that 'something' was, and wouldn't bother correcting him when Kaito was having a hard time of it himself. Regardless of Kaito's personal opinion of him, he was a detective, not an insensitive bastard. "Hm, perhaps," he said after a moment. "But still, the point remains. No matter how happy Marc Antony would ever possibly be upon seeing Caesar alive, he would probably feel more hurt than anything, especially for being lied to by Caesar himself."

Yet another brief pause, this time trying to find a way to lighten the mood. "But Marc Antony had support, at least." he snorted at the concept, the metaphor taking a turn for the oddly inaccurate. "Five wives, eight children, countless numbers of adoring fans...his largest supporter _was_ Cleopatra, you know."

Kaito hummed slowly, turning the commentary over in his head as he slouched forward, curling in on himself slightly. Hakuba stared at him for the briefest of moments, taking in the way the other teen's eyes narrowed in thought and hid his emotions in that slit between his eyelids, before he stood up and groaned, stretching his hands over his head. Dry blood caked his pants and poncho, but he ignored the fashion disaster-slash-health hazard in favor of rifling through Kaito's schoolbag. "What are you doing?" Kaito called out, removing himself from his thoughts to glare suspiciously at Hakuba. "If you think I have any evidence towards being KID, you're-" he changed mid-sentence as Hakuba pulled out his cell phone. "You don't even know my passcode."

_Click._ "It's 1412, Kuroba-kun. I'm not an idiot." He typed something into the phone before placing it back into the bag, glancing at Kaito's confused glare before sighing. The things he did for this idiot. "My address," he explained, letting the two words hang in the air alongside the unspoken _not that you didn't already know it, KID._ "I'm not sure about usual Japanese customs, but in England, we usually don't have serious discussions while sitting around in pig's blood."

Another pause this time, slightly less sarcastic and slightly more awkward than the one prior, before he turned away, grabbing his own bag and making sure that it stayed well away from his body as he held it. "Just make sure you call before you come over. God knows you have my number even without my giving it to you." he smirked slightly and could practically feel the expression Kaito was giving him - if he were any more immature, he would return the thief's favor in sticking his tongue out at him. "And I may have some tea to help you with your stomach."

"Thanks, Cleopatra." Kaito's voice called out as Hakuba made for the exit, and received a backwards wave in return. He didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart, not wholly, so thanking him was, in his personal opinion, a useless endeavor. Still, those words echoed back towards him, and he couldn't stifle a slight smirk, knowing that he had managed to eke out some gratitude from the usually childish teen. Gratitude, and perhaps a declaration of something else - god forbid the implications of yet another metaphor fall on top of the ones prior. Still...

"No problem...Marc Antony."

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**GA:** Not much to say down here. Just for reference, Cleopatra was the fifth and final wife of Marc Antony; he ended up killing himself when he falsely believed that she had done the same, and then died in her arms. She also committed suicide shortly after.

'Til next time!

_~G. Annihilator_


End file.
